Blood Engines(31)

 

Marla shook her head. “Bowman, we’re not the vice cops. I don’t care if Finch makes movies of dogs pissing on his mother. You’ve got a streak of extra-perception—what does that tell you about Finch?”

 

B shook his head. “I haven’t actually seen him in person in years, not since before…I became this way. So I don’t know.”

 

Marla made a disgusted sound. “Maybe this is just coincidence, you being here. Wasting my time. I think I’m going to have to start beating people up until Finch comes around to deal with me personally.”

 

“Wait, you just want to see him?” B said.

 

“Yes. That’s why we’re here. But I’m tired of waiting.”

 

“Well, hell,” B said. “I’ll show you up to his room, if you like.”

 

“Give it your best shot,” Marla said. “If it were me, I’d make sure my room was really hard to find.”

 

“Oh, I’ve been there before,” B said. “Back when I was famous. Finch and me and a couple of other guys had some fun together one night.”

 

“Lead on,” she said.

 

“Should I come, too?” Rondeau said.

 

“No,” Marla said. “No reason for us to look like a parade. Besides, if things get nasty, I’d like to have some backup Finch doesn’t know about. If you hear a commotion, come running.”

 

“I shudder to imagine a commotion that you couldn’t handle but I could.”

 

“Stranger things happen,” Marla said, and followed Bradley Bowman up the stairs to the deck on the second floor. There were couples in various stages of undress and excess in all corners of the deck, and Marla and B wove around them. The second floor was all windows in back—and inside, the floor was covered with groups of sucking, groping, gasping people. Half a dozen men stood on either side of the walkway to the door, watching the people inside through the windows while they tugged on their cocks—walking past them would be like running a gauntlet, Marla thought. Fortunately, B kept leading her around the side of the house. “Finch is on the third floor, up these stairs,” he said.

 

“What stairs?” Marla said, annoyed, and B took her hand. She gasped. There was a wooden stairway, right there, going up the side of the house, ending at a door. She hadn’t seen it, or sensed its presence at all. Marla almost never failed to notice a door. She looked at B with new respect. Maybe he was more than a half-assed seer.

 

“It’s usually not so hard to find,” B said. “I’ve been here for smaller parties, stuff like that, and it’s not usually hidden at all. But I think Finch likes his privacy for these big gatherings.”

 

“I’m sure he does,” Marla said. “He’s probably sitting up there, soaking in all the accumulated sexual energy, storing it up for use later.”

 

“What do you mean?” B said.

 

“I think Finch is a sexual magician. All these people fucking produces a kind of energy, and a sorcerer can tap into that to power spells, to commit acts of magic. The people downstairs think they’re just having a good time—and they are, maybe even a better time than they would have otherwise, since Finch has spells on the place to make people want to fuck more—but they’re also giving Finch his strength.”

 

“Are you a, uh, sexual magician, too?”

 

Marla laughed. “From anyone else, I’d think that was a come-on. No, I’m not a pornomancer, I’m a foul-rag-and-bone-shop sorcerer. I do a little bit of everything. Jill-of-all-trades. I know a lot about sex magic, though. My old mentor, Artie Mann, was a pornomancer.”

 

“Did he throw parties like this?”

 

“Sometimes, but for a different reason. Artie didn’t like to depend on anyone else for anything. He did a big spell to make himself impotent when he was in his twenties, at his sexual peak.”

 

“He was a sex magician who couldn’t have erections?” B said.

 

“It was kind of brilliant, actually,” Marla said. “He owned a bunch of strip clubs, and he surrounded himself with young women, and I think he chose me as an apprentice as much because of my appearance as for any other reason. He wanted to fuck constantly, but he couldn’t, he’d made it impossible for himself, and the frustration and tension built up in him to tremendous levels. He used the energy from that tension to power his magic. So while Finch needs all these dozens of people screwing to give him power, Artie just had to go to one of his strip clubs, and in a pinch, he could just watch some porn. He did sometimes have people over to his place for parties, though not on this scale. He didn’t draw his power from the guests, though, like Finch does.”